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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25826956">19 Years Ago</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider'>Seasider</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Darth Vader thinks, First Person, Gen, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: A New Hope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:41:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25826956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Death Star has exploded. Darth Vader races to learn about Luke Skywalker and  where he was for 19 years.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darth Vader &amp; Luke Skywalker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>19 Years Ago</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Wanted for Crimes Against the Empire</em>
</p><p>The sparse bulletin goes on from there, stark, rabid hatred shooting out of each word. I recognize Palpatine in this. His fury is boundless, his anger at the loss of the Death Star pales (it can, after all, be rebuilt with taxpayer money) when compared with the venom that I can sense in the next two words:</p><p>
  <em>Luke Skywalker</em>
</p><p>And then—</p><p>
  <em>Human, 19 Standard Years</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Crime: Murder</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Victims: Two Million Imperial Military and Civilians</em>
</p><p>That’s all he has for now. No picture, no aliases, no known conspirators. His spies are scattered around the galaxy, searching for information, tracking down anyone who knows that name, any rogue Jedi, any planet that may have sheltered the… the <em>son</em> of Anakin Skywalker.</p><p>
  <em>The Son of Anakin Skywalker.</em>
</p><p>That notation will never appear on news bulletins, never be printed, never have a flimsi stuck to the wall of every Imperial stronghold, every market (until natives tear it down), every school that indoctrinates children to see <em>(the Son of Anakin) Skywalker</em> as a villain or (when no troops or moles are present) a hero. No, he will always be simply <em>Luke Skywalker, Human, 19 Standard Years.</em></p><p>No one will ever know who he is except for a few. His father. Palpatine, who hid the secret for 19 years, possibly friends, perhaps—</p><p>Suddenly, I <em>know.</em> Of course! Why did I not think sooner? Why did I waste days in a haze of disbelief and rage, spinning helplessly in space, ranting at the destruction of an obscene killing machine that I hated? And then— <em>then</em> learning the name, I was lost again in confusion and anger. Because there is only one possibility. Only one place he could have been. <em>I know!</em></p><p>I <em>know</em> who hid my baby, who taught him as he grew, who raised him in a cocoon of lies, who didn’t teach him about his Jedi heritage, who indoctrinated him and sent him to war unprepared, training him to sacrifice himself for their cause. It was not a remnant of the Jedi Order as I feared, for they would have taught him how to use the Force as a weapon. He wouldn’t have had to rely on the unexpected intervention of another to save his life.</p><p>I <em>know.</em> And I race there, determined to salvage whatever I can, determined to learn more, to find a way to have him, to keep him for myself—</p><p>Even before I arrive, I see the twisting spires of smoke, the dying flames. Palpatine’s people arrived first. I fly low over the rubble of the city center where her parents’ home had stood, where people stand in the streets screaming and sobbing, crawling over the broken ruins, struggling to move stones that burn their hands, hoping to find anyone alive.</p><p>I fly to the lake and land on Varykino where we married. The fields are still green and full of life, dotted with small white flowers. Nothing of the villa is left but the flagstones and arches of the balcony where she wore lace and I held her hand. Nothing left, not even the room where we spent our wedding night and woke when the light of dawn touched our faces. My helmet filters out the smoke; without it, I would be choking. Ashes fall on my boots and I turn to see the footprints I have left behind. A dark haze hangs low over the lake. I stare at it, uninterested in turning around again to see the wreckage. My sensors have already told me that no one is left alive either here or in the city house. No Naberries are left. No sisters. No parents. Even the droids are gone, taken to have their memories deconstructed for whatever knowledge they hold. No remnants remain of my son’s life.</p><p>Just for a moment, I imagine him growing up here, in this beautiful and happy place, with a family full of love. Indulged, maybe even spoiled a little, the young orphaned prince of the family, held precious and close. Just for a moment, I imagine <em>me</em> here, with the life I could have had.</p><p>I end the moment. There are no clues here, nothing that will help me find my son. I will find him before Palpatine does. I will not allow my legacy to end. He must live.</p><p>Luke will not be the last Skywalker.</p>
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